Scene  4:05pm Outside The Gym
I've parked the car outside the gym, and now I'm doing that monologue thing again.  The monologue that runs something like;

I made it all the way out here so I may as well go in.

And yes it's DARK already and it's raining, but it was dark when I left the house and it'll be dark when I go to work tomorrow, so what's the dark got to do with it? And the car is only 10 yards from the front door.

I've still got legs.  I can walk ten yards.

And I know I'll feel better when I've done it. Ten minutes on the rowing machine, half an hour on the treadmill. Big deal.  Home by half five. No stairmaster, I won't do the stairmaster. Just a wee row, and a wee jog, and home smug.  Smug is good. If I do all this, I can do smug.

And because I haven't been in a fortnight it's all the more reason to go now.
And because I feel like a barrage balloon it's all the more reason to go now.
And because it's back to work tomorrow, it's all the more reason to go now.
And because there is still half a box of Green and Black's and an unopened box of florentines waiting at home alongside a bottle of Bailey's and a big bag of Tyrell's, it's all the more reason to go to the gym.

4:15 I know... I know.. I know... I'm on my way in.  I'm going to the gym.  Enough already.

4.16  WHAT KIND OF GYM CLOSES EARLY ON JANUARY 2ND?

Yo!! I'm here.. see what I did?  Not there anymore... HERE.  Here in the new house.  That's right, the NEW House.  I did it.  I got out of the old place  The place where my feng shui was definitely fucked.  The place where people and dogs died... or had terminal diseases.  Which is technically the same thing...eventually....

It was down to just me and the kid who can no longer be known as cherub.  We needed out.

So I'm here.  I'm in a house that's brand new and miles away from graveyards - metaphorically or literally. Whichever way you want to put it.  We're not facing the graveyard anymore.  Even better, the wind doesn't come through the windows, and  the plumbing doesn't back up, and the double glazing isn't shot.
We don't look out the back window directly into Bob Next Door's - we look across fields to the Forth.
I've got a double garage. and a huge kitchen, and five bedrooms. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen just to remind myself how fantastic it is.

And it's all taken time.  Between selling the old place, and taking the kid who's no longer cherubic on holiday, and then packing, and then the sale falling through, and then packing again... and then sorting the boxes.  Oh yes and looking into internet dating...  I've been busy.

But there are stories...there will be stories... bear with me...


What can I say meanwhiles?  Merry Christmas of course!!

Good morning blog world! How are YOU doing?

This morning I'm looking at my nose.

That's right.  My nose. I have been studying it very carefully in a good clear light.
 I know, I can can hear you asking, what's wrong? What's the problem with your nose Mace? To which I can only reply. Nothing. There's nothing wrong with my nose at all - that's the problem.

See, it was a thought I had.  There I was, applying a newand  incredibly expensive engineered skin serum, when it occurred to me that I never put this stuff on my nose. I don't know why not.  Laziness? Cutting out an extra 30 seconds from my morning routine every day? Misguided economies? With the price of this stuff who can afford to do their whole face?  Just basic wilfulness??  Anyhoos, the fact stands, that in all my thirty-odd years of dutifully applying face serums, creams, moisturizers, youth lotions and what not to my face I have never applied any to my nose.

That's right, for whatever reason, my nose has never had the benefit of moisturiser, serum or youth dew.

So this must show right? Since my nose has not benefited from peptides, Retinol A, wrinkle reduction, or revitalization of its epidermis, it should by definition look a good couple of decades older than the rest of my face which has benefitted from such miracle creams.

And it doesn't.

Unbelievable I know.  But I can see no difference.

You know your input is valued on such major questions. Feel free to advise....

A big thank you to everyone posting condolences and supportive comments on my blog.
You know who y'all are.

It hasn't all been grim though.  It's amazing what you can find when hunting through an elderly lady's cupboards.  Looking through her papers for her birth certificate, I found a brown envelope...with photos... and a covering letter to  explain the photos.

That's me in 1964! That was our house in Glasgow! Nobody ever told me that I'd had a modelling career for the South of Scotland Electricity Board.

Cough....cough...cough... hak! hak!

Macy - Mumble....


Macy - Sigh...



Macy - Vast amounts of overtime!

I know.  Isn't this ridiculous?
Ms Macy is indisposed.
Indisposed indeed....  (sniff) frankly  the terminology is the only elegant thing about Ms Macy this morning.

She is unwell
And that's before she even gets to her mother's to eat Steak Pie.

Rather than contemplating the Mother's Steak Pie.. we leave you with a new year song - and bestest heartfelt wishes for 2012

I'll need to get the manager.

My first mistake was buying the dress off the rail in a hurry without trying it on.  Because it was on sale. Because I've always been a size ten... because I can always bring it back if it doesn't fit.

Apparently not.

The assistant has noticed a stain on the dress.
Now she's pointed it out, I can see a stain too.  However this is not my problem because it is not my stain.
Just for the record, I do not do stains.... well not in a long time, and certainly not in dresses that are too small.
I've refused to accept responsibility for aforesaid stain.
I'd still like my money back please.

The manager fetched from elsewhere, has however her own opinion on the matter.
Firmly and clearly, she points out that the dress is not in a saleable condition and obviously they cannot take it back.
Obviously?? Obviously???  Why is it that anytime anyone uses the word obviously, there's nothing obvious at all?
In my best calm, Voice of Reason, I slowly explain that I cannot see why they cannot take the dress back, since obviously they sold it to me in that condition. Obviously the stain is not mine, and obviously it would add insult to injury if I were to have to take a dress which is not only too small, but now apparently with added stains.
Pfft

For those not in the know, I do a good line in self-assertion.
Sometimes....
For those not in the know, I do a good line in silent waiting.

It took a possible full minute of silent stand off before I was offered a credit note.
Okaaayyy

A credit note which had to be used today.
For those not in the know, I do a good line in mental arithmetic.

Even so, it took me a good twenty minutes to put together items which came to no more and no less than the value of the credit note - because they're not getting any more of my money.  Pfffttt.
And yes. I checked for stains before I bought them....

It's been a hard week, and it's been a long week, and at some point I'll get round to writing about it.
There have been lies, and nastiness and a long running deception was uncovered.

One blog pal has already been upset enough to give up her blog.
Whilst those others who have found out are feeling out of love with blogging right now.


For once, I'm not joking.

To answer one "commentator" on another blog post: No Jane I am not having a laugh.

So it's good to leave that behind and refocus.

I found Haricot's blog a while back, and I've been enjoying the calm. I love the detail of Japanese life. I love the poetry.

Haricot's agreed that I can link to her blog. And I'm going to be heading over to Haricot's  anytime I need calm reflection.
I hope you'll join me there.

Design from Haricot's blog.

Macy!
Oh Maa-a-acy! Yi there hen?

It's  Bob, one of the Good People of Cheesetown, and he's calling round to check out this blog.  Because Things Have Gone Quiet Again. Hell, Macy might be a manic Glaswegian drama queen, but she's still Cheesetown's manic Glaswegian drama queen. And Cheesetown cares.

And Something has Happened

Tis boding not well and all that....

Macy??? Helloo-oo-o

The silence sits heavy over the blog whilst metaphorical cobwebs blow sideways and dust drifts...

Mace??

She's no here.{ It's Bill Fromaccrosstheroad}

No here?
Naw, she'd a blog meet. Did yi no hear?
A blog meet? Macy?
Aye a blog meet. Like folks do these days an'a.

Didnae go well then?
Slow exhaling of breath whilst shaking head slowly.
Whathappened?
More slow exhaling of breath whilst shaking head slowly. She's saying nuthin. Nuthin ken.  Just laying low. Ah think that blog meet finished here.  Scared she comes accross him again, yi see?

Oh, aye. She might be gone awhile then?

Nah, this is Macy, mind.  And from what she tells me this other guy disnae even know her real name.

Listen up now, I've been called "strong" and "outspoken" in my time. Not,I'll admit, as often as I've been called "late", "weird" or just plain "wrong", but there are people who believe that I am quite capable of speaking my mind.

These people are, in fact, sadly mistaken. Let it be known that they are wrong.
Let it be known that I am a wimp; I am wet, I am in fact a veritable mollusk on the seabed of life.
As evidence of this startling fact, I give you the following:

The scene - an investment manager's office. Kayleigh, our young fresh faced Client Liaison Officer, is taking some details - including my date of birth.

Macy - 1961. Yes.
Macy - No. That means I am fifty. It's June already.

Deep breath

Reader, did I answer "Look, dollface the attitude's unprofessional, and you can quit with the personal remarks right now"?

Pfft. I wish.

Did I adopt my look of Serious Bemusement before firing back "Well what the merry blintering hell do you think fifty looks like? Raddled and bed ridden? Toothless?? FFS DO NOT DARE TO PATRONISE ME.










Nope.
I did not.
You know what the wimp said don't you....

"Oh...gosh.. thanks... ha ha.. must be good genes..."
Thanks?  FFS...

For the record, we do not do Mother's Day chez Mace.
Today this blog is a schmaltz free zone.

I spent my formative years with my own mother... and my mother does Mothers' Day Big time. No really Big Time. The cards have to be big enough, the presents expensive enough.
That's right cards and presents, one from each child. Or else... or else there is a Wall of Sulk.

Luckily said children could share on cooking the meal, or taking her out. Tsk, even my mother would have trouble eating two breakfasts in bed.

I digress. Let's just say, as a result of years of grief over a manufactured day of schmaltz, the Cherub has strict orders as to both the card (homemade), and the present (cost = nil).

To be honest, most years the Cherub's Mother's Day present to me is simply to accompany me to my mothers. Since, obviously, being a grandmother doesn't mean you don't get a Mothers' Day card (big) and Mothers Day present (expensive).

This year, though my mother is on holiday.

Can you improve on a bunch of daffs (wrapped in newspaper) and an afternoon tea at the local overpriced farm cafe?
Maybe a photo?

No. Nearly a perfect day then.

I know. I know. I'm imagining the headlines now.

Constant Blogger's Silent Shame
Macy enters third week of silence.

Shameless.
Drama Queen Macy refuses to comment on accusations she has abandoned blogging community.

Macy Who?
Blogging Community Ostracises Silent Macy


Stay tuned though.. here comes the horoscope

If Claire Petulengro is WRONG I'm going to be deeply upset.

It's not just the NZ Determinations Officer who's been issuing forms lately. They're all at it. Pensions administrators, the tax office, credit card agencies, insurance companies.
Used to be not a problem.
Used to be I could at least breeze through the first couple of questions anyway. Those later parts, the parts needing dates and details, and previous reference numbers and previous employers addresses... yeah they could slow me down, but full name, title, date and place of birth, telephone number yep I know those. Lately though, I've been getting stuck at the "Marital Status" bit...

I dunno.
I dunno which box to tick....

Only one of the usual options does not apply. I am very definitely NOT married. No wedding certificate, no quick Balinese beach ceremony or Las Vegas quickie to note. Which has quite obviously, saved me a small fortune in lawyers' fees and expensive new clothes. Hell, let's look on the bright side.

But "single"?? Single sounds like you are unattached but ready to get attached. Maybe if I was filling in a for for Soulmates R Us. com.. but I'm not. Nope, no thanks. Single sounds like I have a completely unfettered existence, no ties, no dependants, which, you know, if you are filling in the life assurance forms ain't the case... cheese, if I was single I wouldn't be applying for life assurance would I?

For a while back I was "separated" on forms. That was a nice, useful definition for bank accounts, and other interested parties who should know that I am filling in this form for just me, but there is this other bastard out there who could be trouble. "Separated" says "Please do not confuse my bank account with the Dybbuk's constant overdraft."
It was also a nice definition for anything to do with the cherub, the tax credit forms, the school records, parties where they needed to know there was another parent. We are separated, so we will need two copies of the forms and reports thanks very much.

The trouble started when "separated" stopped applying. I needed a category which meant, "separated, but we've ironed it all out, and now I'm caring for him here while we wait for him to die, and I'm really, really, Big Time, sorry"

For awhile the Jobcentre people kindly obliged by designating me W's carer - and even paid me £50 a week because I cared (who knows.. maybe if I'd cared less, been in a professional capacity, they'd have paid me more...). But you can't be separated from someone who's dead... can you? And as far as the Jobcentre is concerned you stops caring two months after date of death.

So

That would leave ... what, "widowed"? Nah. Obviously being a Scottish Widow carries a certain cachet around Edinburgh and it seems more appropriate for motor insurance - because you would not believe how carefully I drive now... but nah.. full circle.. no marriage licence.

Apparently everyone does it; cruises along on some great zeitgeist, where all the thoughts an d ideas we have are are actually shared by most of our generation. It's a Noosphere, it's a Collective Consciousness, it's all in the memes..

Or put it another way. Back in the 1960's, when my mum and dad first looked at their new infant daughter and decided that the name MACY was radical and original, and memorable.. well thousands of other parents were thinking exactly the same thing.
Especially in Scotland...

Since starting work at the renowned Institute, I have found out exactly how unoriginal they were.
Not only is my Financial Director called Macy, but two of my budget holders are also called Macy.

That's on the third floor. Elsewhere in the institute there are a further THREE Macys at work.

Since there are only 130 people working at the institute worldwide* that means that about 10% of the female workforce in the Institute are called MACY.
HA! And it gets better. Because we are in Scotland - four of us are called Macy Mac...

Oh how we laughed when a dignified trustee sent an effusive e-mail to Macy (Me) inviting me out to lunch. He meant the other Macy of course..

But over the past five months, the joy of e-mails sent to the wrong person, or confusion over which Macy's office we are to meet in has worn off.

My team don't think it's funny anymore when they have to explain that no Macy can't meet with Macy at short notice because she's in a meeting with Macy. No not that Macy the other one...

I've been asked if I have a nickname they could use instead.
And I do .... but it's the one I use on my blog...

Behold what was parked chez Macy last Sunday!!
Right outside my front door no less!!

Now what I want to know, is what kind of eejit would buy me a new set of wheels complete with customised number plate and forget to drop the keys through the letterbox..

What can I say? Did I ever say I could never fall in love again??

If I'd been honest I'd have admitted this upfront. I have had my eye on this one for over a year now...Let's quote those great Cheesetown locals the Proclaimers
"First time I saw you it did cross my mind..
The next time I saw you there wasn't the time..."

But I have been otherwise occupied you know: circumstances didn't allow.

But now...
Since April 21st in fact...Yeah. It's love. I recognise the signs. Right now I'm in the first stages of complete infatuation. Those long evenings together, the nights, planing for the future. Nothing else matters....

Which isn't to say we haven't had our wee disagreements. But they're wee disagreements; nothing fundamental, because my baby is almost practically perfect.

Sigh

IF you could see me wandering up through the graveyard about half six, on a filthy wet dark morning, sleet lashing in sideways from somewhere north of Siberia, muffled in the Cherub's woolly hat and wellies (he's outgrown them, I haven't..) you'd see where I was coming from here.

I am dealing with it you know, the cold, the dark, the leaking windows, the boiler that's re-defining temperamental. And this isn't a whinge, it's just a flat declaration - look some one else is living my life.

Evidence?
Boden catalogue Summer 2010.
This does not look like a couple unduly bothered by the small print on their Scottish Gas Boiler Maintenance Contract does it?

Sensible self - You want to live in a Boden catalogue, Macy???
Frankly wee Sensibles I can think of worse places

But picking on Boden is unfair. One catalogue does not an entire winter of discontent make.
Check out Living Magazine why don't you?
Clever Eilis and Tom have converted their five bedroom holiday home in Dorset to reflect the tranquillity of their surroundings...
She used to be a hat designer you know..
And now their holiday home has 5 bedrooms. Count them. FIVE.

Sensible Self - That's a lot of cleaning.
DO hat designers clean??
Sensible Self - No need to be nippy about our friends who are Artists in Felt.

Keith and Dora's apartment is in Italy. He loves to paint the nearby Santa Maria di Miraculi.

Sensible Self: So what you're saying Macy is that these people have stolen your life??

Well not all of them obviously, but you know something's gone wrong somewhere.
I passed all the exams they threw at me
I worked overtime
I paid into the pension fund
I've been good for years on end now.
Dammit - I can design hats!

Questions need to be asked.
That's all I'm saying.

I'd like my real life back please.

Sensible Self has been on my case for the past week. And since she is SENSIBLE, there is no arguing with her. Worse, since she is a SELF, there is no getting away from that nagging voice either.
Tsk
Sensible Self: So you are just going to leave the blog there are you Macy?
Macy: Yes.. I thought so.
Sensible Self: Thought so?
Macy: yes, well it would be a good place to leave it and all. What with starting in the pits, then going full circle back to employment and after W.
Sensible Self. Except full circle would bring you back to the pits wouldn't it??
Macy: Pffft.....pedant.

Sensible Self: If you are going to do that big gesture, finish the blog thing, then you should write a big grand closing entry shouldn't you? Closure. Closure would be good.
Macy: Yup.
Sensible Self: So why don't you?
Macy: Oh, you know, I just don't want to. I miss blogging. I miss cruising around all the other blogs out there.... Some of those bloggers have started to feel like friends you know?
Sensible Self: Well you can still read other blogs! Good grief! Since when did reading someone else's blog mean you had to write your own?
Macy: But it wouldn't feel right..... also I miss the WRITING.
Sensible Self: Well you'd better get back to the blog then hadn't you?
Macy: I will, yeah, right, I will!

Sensible Self: Because some Big Stuff has been going down lately, and you wouldn't want anyone to think you're only going to blog when you have some big news to impart.
Macy: Like some drama queen?
Sensible Self: Exactly. Get back to writing. And mention the Forthcoming Attractions.
Macy: Like the Small Boutique Counting House saga?
Sensible Self: That would be a good one to get going on yes.

Macy: Thinking I might resort to the old blue grey format as well....
Sensible Self. Look I'm SENSIBLE. Sensible people do not, by definition CARE about background colour.

Nuff said.

Hey look! The sun's out and there are clear blue skies all over Cheesetown. Up in the woods there are definitely buds on some trees, and snowdrops are starting to poke through.
Ned has forgiven me for last night's shampoo and trim, and is elegantly wafting the scent of Tesco's Vanilla and Peach No Tears Shampoo and Conditioner through the house.
And on the back road between Cheesetown and the nearest M&S Emporium, I am singing along with my pal Lucinda Williams. It's warm enough to get the roof of the Mazda down.
That's how good it is.
I've got a job!
A better job than the one I had before!

And before I need to change the music to Steven Patrick (I was looking for a job and then I found a job/ And heaven knows I'm miserable now) Morrissey, before I need to worry about dog care and child care in the holidays, before the reality of walking the Nedster at half six every weekday morning kicks in, I'm going to enjoy it.

Look it worked out. Lost a stinking job to be there for W though his last months, had the time to look out for Cherub. Got job.
Simples.
Karma
Ha!